Dream Ghost

The day after Zhao Lin woke up, the sun shone brightly. It was the kind of autumn sunlight that's gentle, not scorching, but a golden hue, like someone had poured a bucket of honey from the sky. He stood on the rooftop of the association headquarters, holding a cup of coffee—a latte, less sugar, made for him by Su Wanning, the same one Lin Ye had. He took a sip; the bitterness melted on his tongue, followed by the milky aroma, and then a subtle sweetness. He looked down at the coffee in the cup; a thin layer of milk foam floated on the surface of the brown liquid, shimmering in the sunlight.

"It was my first time drinking a latte," he said.

Lin Ye stood beside him, also holding a glass. "Is it good?"

"I don't know. I've never had it, so I can't tell if it tastes good or not. But it's warming. As long as it's warming, that's fine." Zhao Lin took another sip, this time a bit more; the bitterness was stronger, and the milk flavor was richer. He squinted, as if he was bothered by the bitterness, but he didn't frown. He held the cup between his hands, feeling the warmth emanating from the ceramic. "I used to drink instant coffee every day. The cheapest kind from the supermarket, a big bag would last a month. Not bitter, not sweet, not fragrant. Just coffee-flavored water. It was energizing, but not warming."

Lin Ye remained silent. He gazed at the distant city skyline, where skyscrapers glittered in the sunlight, resembling a forest constructed of glass and steel. The sky was a clear blue, cloudless, and a few birds flew overhead, their wings flashing silvery-white in the sunlight.

Zhao Lin followed his gaze and stared at him for a long time.

"What do you look at here every day?" he asked.

"Let's wait until dawn."

"What's so interesting about daylight?"

"Dawn proves that today still exists." Lin Ye took a sip of coffee. "Yesterday is gone, and tomorrow hasn't come yet. Only today is real."

Zhao Lin was silent for a few seconds. He raised the cup to his eyes and looked at the sky through the brown liquid. The sky had turned amber, like a stone pierced by sunlight.

"You speak like you're writing poetry," he said.

"It wasn't me who said it. A friend said it."

"What friend?"

"A friend I've waited three thousand years for."

Zhao Lin put down his cup and looked at Lin Ye. His eyes weren't as tense as yesterday; his pupils no longer resembled a string about to snap. He relaxed, not because the fragment had been removed, but because he finally understood that those three months hadn't been spent insane. Those symbols, those dreams, that person whose face he couldn't see—they were all real. Not hallucinations, not mental illness, not a problem with his brain. It was because there was a fragment from three thousand years ago within him, constantly trying to communicate with him. He couldn't understand, but he tried his best to listen. He tried for three months, writing every day, taking notes every day, trying to understand a language he didn't recognize. He wasn't insane; he was just trying too hard.

"Will that person—Lin Yuanshan—won't wake up again?" Zhao Lin asked.

"meeting."

"When?"

"I don't know. I'll wake up when I find a suitable body."

"What if we can't find it?"

Lin Ye remained silent for a few seconds.

"Then let's keep waiting. I'll wait for him, and he'll wait for me. One day, we'll meet again."

Zhao Lin stared at him for a long time.

"You look very tired," he said.

"I'm used to it."

"Habit is not an excuse. Habit is just a pretext you use to tell yourself 'I can keep going.'" Zhao Lin placed the cup on the concrete platform of the rooftop, put his hands in his pockets, and said, "I studied literature for three years, read thousands of books, and wrote a bunch of articles that nobody reads. The most important thing I learned is—you can't keep going forever. If you keep going too much, you'll break."

Lin Ye looked at him.

"You speak like you're writing poetry."

"Anyone who graduated with a Chinese literature degree can do that."

Zhao left. He carried a backpack, wore the plaid shirt, and carried no bottled water. He didn't look back as he walked, but paused at the stairwell, took the anchor point out of his pocket, and held it up to the sunlight. The silvery-white metal reflected a small patch of light in the sunlight, falling on his face like a miniature sun. He put the anchor point back in his pocket and walked down the stairs. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell, one after another, growing fainter and fainter until they finally disappeared.

Lin Ye stood on the rooftop, looking in the direction Zhao Lin had disappeared. Autumn leaves shone on his wrist; the silvery-white light was faint but steady in the sunlight.

"Will he get better?" Qiuye asked.

"meeting."

How did you know?

"Because he didn't give up. The fragment was inside him for three months, and he didn't go crazy, didn't break down, and didn't stop trying to understand. He wouldn't give up on himself."

The autumn leaves were silent for a moment. Their color slowly changed from silvery white to pale blue, like the autumn sky.

"You're worried about him," Qiuye said.

"A little."

Why?

"Because he's like me."

"How is it similar?"

"I'm carrying it all alone."

Qiu Ye didn't speak again. It just shone, its pale blue light flickering on Lin Ye's wrist like a heartbeat.

Su Wanning emerged from behind the door on the rooftop. She didn't know how long she had been standing there; perhaps she had been there since Zhao Lin left, or perhaps even earlier. She walked to Lin Ye's side and stood beside him, gazing at the distant city.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

I'm not hungry.

"I'm hungry. Come with me to lunch."

Lin Ye looked at her. Sunlight fell on her face, making her eyelashes appear very long and casting a small fan-shaped shadow under her eyelids. The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, not in a smile, but in an expression that said, "I knew you would come with me."

"Okay," he said.

There weren't many people in the cafeteria. When the head chef saw them come in, he poked his head out of the window.

"We have sweet and sour pork ribs today. It's a new dish, have a try."

Su Wanning ordered two servings of sweet and sour pork ribs, two servings of rice, and a bowl of tomato and egg drop soup. She carried her tray to Lin Ye and sat down opposite him, pushing a serving of pork ribs in front of him.

"eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You only had one cup of coffee this morning. It's lunchtime now, you need to eat."

Lin Ye looked at the ribs in front of him. The sweet and sour sauce glistened on the surface of the meat, sprinkled with white sesame seeds, and steaming hot. He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece, and put it in his mouth. The sweet and sour taste exploded on his tongue; the meat was very tender, almost melting in his mouth. He chewed a few times, swallowed, and then took another piece.

"Is it good?" Su Wanning asked.

"tasty."

"Then eat more."

Lin Ye ate most of a plate of ribs, a bowl of rice, and half a bowl of soup. He didn't eat much, but it was more than he usually ate. Su Wanning watched him finish eating and then pushed her own plate of ribs towards him.

"Here, have this. I can't eat anymore."

Lin Ye looked at her. There were still three pieces of pork ribs on her plate, untouched.

"You haven't eaten yet."

"I'm not hungry."

"You just said you were hungry."

"I was just kidding. If I hadn't said I wasn't hungry, you wouldn't have come to eat."

Lin Ye stared at her for a long time. Sunlight streamed in through the cafeteria window, falling on her hair and turning a few stray strands golden. Her expression was calm, but there was a light in her eyes—not the light of tears, but the kind of light that said, "I know you don't take care of yourself, so I'm here to take care of you."

"Su Wanning."

"Um."

"You don't need to lie to me anymore. Just say you're hungry, and I'll come. Whether I'm hungry or not, I'll come."

Su Wanning lowered her head, looking at the ribs on the plate. Her ears turned red, from her earlobes all the way to the tips, like two leaves dyed red by autumn.

"Eat. Don't talk," she said.

Lin Ye didn't say anything more. He picked up his chopsticks and ate the three pieces of pork ribs on Su Wanning's plate. He ate them one after another, finishing them completely. The bones were placed on the side of the plate, lined up like a small troop of soldiers.

In the afternoon, Lin Ye went to Lin Yuanzhou's room. The old man was organizing the old photos projected from his consciousness. The images were still blurry, but he hadn't given up. He repaired them every day, using his consciousness to mend the faded edges bit by bit, like restoring an ancient painting.

"Zhao Lin is gone?" He didn't look up.

"I'm gone."

"How is he?"

"It's alright. My consciousness has recovered to 68% of its original level, so I don't need a new body. My own consciousness can recover on its own."

Lin Yuanzhou put down the "photo" in his hand and turned to look at Lin Ye.

Where is Lin Yuanshan?

"Here he is." Lin Ye placed his hand on his chest. "His consciousness was separated from the fragments. Forty-one percent intact, he's asleep."

Lin Yuanzhou stared at him for a long time. Something flickered in his cloudy eyes, not tears, but a deep, heavy light, like sand that had been settled for thousands of years finally being stirred up.

"What did he say to you?"

"He said, 'Brother, I'm back,'" Lin Ye said. "He also said that you've always given in to him since we were little. When he was unhappy, you comforted him. When he got into trouble, you took the beating for him. When he left, you waited for him."

Lin Yuanzhou's lips trembled slightly. He didn't cry, but his hands shook. Those old, wrinkled hands had once carved seven seals on the trunk of the World Tree, raised three scroll-level creatures, and watched his son walk into the teleportation array and never return. They trembled, not from illness, but because he had finally heard his brother's voice. Three thousand years had passed; he thought he would never hear it again in this lifetime.

"What else did he say?" the old man asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"He said he's back."

Lin Yuanzhou lowered his head, looking at his trembling hands.

"He's never been punctual since he was little. He said he'd come home for dinner when he was five, but he didn't come back until he was six. He said he'd finish his homework when he was ten, but he didn't finish until he was eleven. He said he'd come back to inherit the Night's Watch when he was twenty, but he didn't come back until he was twenty-one. Every time he said 'I'm back,' he was always late." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, not in a smile, but in a very faint warmth, like the winter sun. "Three thousand years. This time he's three thousand years late. But it's good that he's back. It's good that he's back."

Lin Ye reached out and placed his hand on the old man's aged hand. The old man's hand was cool, but his palm was warm. The two hands were folded together, like two leaves from different eras falling in the same place in the same autumn.

"He will wake up," Lin Ye said.

"I know."

How did you know?

"Because you said it. You will do what you say you will do."

Lin Ye didn't speak. He held the old man's hand, feeling its temperature—cool, but not icy, more like the cool of a late autumn morning, with a faint warmth.

After leaving Lin Yuanzhou's room, Lin Ye encountered Gu Yan in the corridor. Gu Yan's consciousness projection was leaning against the wall, without a notebook in his hand; he was simply standing there, looking out the window. The sky outside was already dark, the streetlights were on, and their orange light cast a blurry halo on the glass.

"I've heard about Zhao Lin's matter." Gu Yan didn't turn around. "The sixth fragment is inside you, and with the third, you now have two. The seventh fragment is missing, while the first, second, fourth, and fifth are in the hands of the Dream Weaver Society. Of the seven fragments, you have two, they have four. As for the last one, nobody knows where it is."

"Lin Yuanzhou said that his brother's fragment was the sixth piece. The first to fifth pieces were in the hands of the Dream Weaver Society, and the seventh piece has been missing for three thousand years."

"Missing doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It just hasn't been found yet." Gu Yan turned around and looked at Lin Ye. "The Dream Weaver Society is also searching. They won't give up. If all seven fragments fall into their hands, the seal on the World Tree will be completely useless."

"I know."

"So what do you plan to do?"

"Keep searching. Find the seventh piece. Find the core stronghold of the Dream Weavers. Find your and your father's bodies. Find everything they took from you."

Gu Yan stared at him for a long time.

"You've made a very long list."

"Um."

"You can't finish it all by yourself."

"I'm not alone." Lin Ye looked at him. "You help me. Su Wanning helps me. Captain Chen helps me. Lin Yuanzhou helps me. Qiu Ye helps me."

Gu Yan's lips twitched slightly. It wasn't a smile, but a very faint expression, like someone being pulled out of deep water and finally able to breathe.

"When did you learn that?"

"Learn what?"

Learn to ask for help.

Lin Ye thought for a moment.

"It started on the rooftop."

Gu Yan didn't ask any more questions. He turned around and continued looking out the window. The light from the streetlamp pierced through his projection of consciousness, leaving a transparent, barely perceptible spot of light on the wall. He had no shadow, yet he existed. His consciousness had recovered to 88% of its original state, and the projection could last for 16 hours. He was becoming increasingly "clear," but he still couldn't touch anyone, couldn't eat anything, and had no shadow. He was a memory written in the air, visible but intangible.

Lin Ye stared at his retreating figure for a long time. Then she turned and walked towards her room.

The corridor was long, and the lighting was a warm yellow. Su Wanning stood at the fork in the corridor, holding a cup of hot milk in her hand, wearing a light blue nightgown, her hair loose. She saw Lin Ye walk over and handed him the milk.

"I'm tired from training today. I'll drink this and then go to sleep."

Lin Ye took the cup. The milk was warm, not hot, just right to drink.

"Did you add sugar?"

"One spoonful. Add one spoonful every day. Haven't you noticed?"

Lin Ye was stunned for a moment. He drank the milk she gave him every day and found it sweet every day, but he never thought that she had added sugar. He thought it was the natural sweetness of the milk, or perhaps it was his imagination.

"Do you add sugar to my food every day?"

"every day."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you haven't realized it yourself. Things you haven't realized become different once you talk about them." Su Wanning leaned against the wall, his hands in his pajama pockets. "You feel it's sweet because it's sweet inside you, not because of the sugar."

Lin Ye stood in the corridor, holding a glass of milk, watching her. The warm yellow light fell on her face, gently outlining her features. Her eyes were bright, not from tears, but from the reflection of the light in her pupils.

"Su Wanning."

"Um."

"You have to add sugar to my food every day from now on."

"every day."

"Add a lifetime."

Su Wanning looked at him, unable to suppress the smile on her lips.

"The milk will be finished."

"Then add more."

"The sugar will run out."

"Then buy more."

Su Wanning didn't speak. She got up from the wall, walked to Lin Ye, reached out, took the milk glass from his hand, and placed it on the bench in the corridor. Then she tiptoed and gently touched his cheek. Not a kiss, just a touch. Like a leaf falling on water, so light, almost imperceptible. But Lin Ye felt it. Her lips were cool, like moonlight. His cheek was warm, like a stone warmed by the sun. Cool touched warm, and for a fleeting moment, the two temperatures exchanged a tiny bit.

"Goodnight," she said. She turned and walked away without looking back.

Lin Ye stood in the hallway, watching her walk into the room and close the door. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door—she had turned on the lamp. The orange light seeped from under the door, like a thin, luminous river. Lin Ye stood there, watching for a long time. He didn't knock, didn't go in, just stood there. Autumn leaves shone on his wrist, the pale blue light turning pink, like cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom in spring.

"She touched your face," Qiuye said.

"Um."

"What is that?"

"That's 'Goodnight'."

What color is goodnight?

Lin Ye thought for a moment.

"Pink. Like cherry blossoms."

The autumn leaves turned a deeper pink, like an entire cherry blossom tree blooming simultaneously in spring. It didn't ask why it was pink; it knew. Because its own color was pink. It itself became "Goodnight."

Lin Ye picked up the milk cup from the bench; the milk was still warm. He took a sip; it was sweet. Not the sweetness of milk, but the sweetness of sugar. Not the sweetness of sugar, but her sweetness. She added sugar to the milk, adding sweetness to his heart. After finishing the milk, he washed the cup and placed it on the kitchen drainer. The cup was white, with a cat printed on it; Su Wanning had bought it. She bought two, one for him and one for herself. His cup had a black cat on it, hers had a white cat. The two cats stood side by side on the drainer, like two people standing side by side on a rooftop watching the sunrise.

Lin Ye returned to his room and lay down on the bed. The moon outside the window was round, and its silvery light shone through the gaps in the curtains onto the floor like a thin river. The crack in the ceiling was still there, two meters and three inches long, with eleven branches. He no longer counted them, but he remembered their shape. It resembled a tree, a leafless tree, a tree in winter.

"Autumn Leaves".

"Um."

"You used to be a leaf on a tree. Then the tree was gone. You became a line on my wrist."

"I am not a leaf. I am the tree itself. Leaves fall, but the tree doesn't. As long as the roots remain, the tree remains." The autumn leaves changed color from pink back to pale blue, like the autumn sky. "Your roots are here. You will not fall."

Lin Ye reached out and gently touched the autumn leaf on his wrist. The pale blue light trembled slightly, like someone being touched on the shoulder in the dark, turning around, and seeing a familiar face.

Goodnight, autumn leaves.

Goodnight, Lin Ye.

Lin Ye closed his eyes. Moonlight crawled slowly across the floor, from the foot of the bed to the headboard, from his feet to his face. His breathing was light and steady. Autumn leaves shone on his wrist, their pale blue light flickering like a heartbeat. It was learning. Learning how humans sleep—without dreaming, without fear, without worrying about tomorrow. Just closing his eyes, believing that the sun would rise again tomorrow.